


static

by iTwinDragons (rNgDragon)



Series: there's blood in the water [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst?, Body Horror, Brainwashing, Happy Ending?, M/M, Mind Control, hacked!genji, i guess, inspired by sarcasticasides' au, probably not let’s be honest, slavery? not really sure if that applies...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-01-09 06:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12270660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rNgDragon/pseuds/iTwinDragons
Summary: The hacker hadn’t been joking when she said he would see a familiar face.He knows the pain, or at least half of it. He feels a quiet pang of sympathy for a split second, until it was smoothed over by the thought of the previous time he had encountered this very same cyborg.No, this dragon is strong. He will not be easy to break.inspired bysarcasticasides hacked!genji au





	1. suppressant

**Author's Note:**

> **CW/TW: this fic includes strong themes like brainwashing and mind control (and also slavery? if that applies.)**  
>     
> this fic is not for everyone so if any of these themes bother you please dont read it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hacker hadn’t been joking when she said he would see a familiar face.

_-_

The hacker hadn’t been joking when she said he would see a familiar face. In fact, it could almost even have passed off as a threat; the quiet glimmer in her eyes and the unsettling smirk that Sombra never seemed to drop. She knew something and seemingly always had a way to get under his skin. If she wasn’t so useful, Akande would have killed her already.

The automated door clicked; unlocking and sliding to the side, revealing a dimly lit room, holographic projections flashing along the metal sheen of the wall. A transparent cross-section of a building stood at the center of attention at the middle table, casting an almost eerie glow throughout the rest of the room.

But his attention was focused elsewhere, on the cyborg standing there, palms pressed flat against the glass paneling, fingers splayed out over the neat little holograms.

Akande has taken a step back in surprise, alarmed by the appearance of the cyborg in the room, until he noticed the vacant look in his eyes and the purple LEDs glossing over his golden irises. Genji Shimada just kept staring, his gaze fixed loosely at the wall, not even acknowledging his presence.

A familiar face, Sombra had said. A familiar face indeed.

He watches in silence, half curiously and half fascinated of what and how the hacker had been able to accomplish this. The lights on the cyborg’s body steadily shone a dim purple, easily relating back to the hacker in question. Everything that belonged to her was a shade between pink or purple, a cruelty he now thinks of the man before him.

He might have mistaken Genji as an omnic the first time, unsure of the fluidity and calculated way of how he moved was either too humanoid for a robot, or highly advanced programming which could predict and simulate the thoughts of a human. But no, the mask had been discarded to the side, only a hands-width away from the cyborg’s grasp. The usual green slit cutting across the length of it was blank, otherwise, he knew it would parallel the dark lights that emitted from his body.

Akande stepped closer, his arm moving of its own accord to rest in the air above the cyborg’s shoulder. He caught himself last moment, taking a respectful step back as Genji abruptly turned, locking his gaze with the unnatural light replacing his irises. He stared, curious of where the source of the light could emit from as he watched the cyborg’s pupils dilate wide open, finally focusing his bleary gaze on an object.

There was something in there. The look.

He could see the strain of life holding onto in his eyes. If he looked past the purple projections, the brown of his iris shone through, bringing forth the cyborg’s pain. He noticed the dark lines circling bags under Genji’s eyes; and the way his synthetic jaw clenched hard against his upper human one. The scars cutting across his features were twisted, screaming in an unspoken agony.

The pain. He knew it all too well.

Sombra liked to play around, teasing him with her connection with technology. His arm was mainly one of them. Oh, how she loved to see his confusion or surprise when his prosthetic acted up. He feels the sudden, sharp flare of pain in his missing arm as the nerve endings are cut and taken over. He watches as his arm moves without his acknowledgment as if it is not even connected to him. It feels strangely disconnected as if an outside source had taken over his arm, like it has been.

But she only ever makes it last a few milliseconds, maybe till even a single second. Never more, never less.

Sombra was smart. She knew how far she could push it before she had to back away. He would simply swat her away in annoyance afterward.

But now his thoughts travel back the cyborg standing in front of him. He imagines that pain, but amplified for however long she had taken control of Genji’s body. He imagines how long he must have gone without being in control. But most of all, he imagines how she keeps his lips sealed tight, not even allowing him a single thought of releasing whatever was surely building inside of his head.

The solitude of his cell had haunted him even after he had been released from it. His anger had built, but he had held it down, building and building till the day he snapped; the day he had punched his way through the concrete walls that held him.

He knows the pain, or at least half of it. No, but he doesn't know how it is to be trapped inside of his own body. Doesn't know how it feels to be unable to vent his frustration. Doesn't know how it feels having tape permanently over his mouth, controlling what leaves his lips.

He feels a quiet pang of sympathy for a split second until it was smoothed over by the thought of the previous time he had encountered this very same cyborg.

Akande remembered the flying little discs of green light arcing from where their owner had been just a split second ago, and easing his arm up in time to block them from cutting into his body. And the time traveling girl. The cyborg had distracted him and she moved in and fired then vise-versa. They had gained ground and closed in, surrounding him.

He had thrown his whole weight into a single strike, his gauntlet sending tremors and shockwaves through the ground. The ground had deformed, concrete tearing and rising from the impact. Tracer flashed away from it, all the debris missing her, but the cyborg was not so lucky; directly in the path of the attack, launching him into the sky. Genji had risen high with it, a car chasing his path. Akande followed as well.

Seconds before the car could have impacted, a green flash of light rippled in the middle of the car. A silver blade embedded with a green light came clean through, parting the two halves of the car and revealing the cyborg.

Akande was ready. His fist swung forward, connecting square into Genji’s chest. There was a moment of stillness; he heard the sound of the cyborg’s chest contracting, wires snapping, and the groan of the metal frame bending to his force.

He struck a graceful little bird out of the air, watching the cyborg thrown from the impact into the ground, skidding over and over on the pavement. Genji smashed to a stop against the side of the car, struggled to get up before the mess of his body sparked and gave up, and he fell again.

Good.

He landed, almost laughing at the comical way Tracer’s mouth had fallen open, a soundless cry for her metal friend. Her eyes swung to him immediately, narrowing between the orange-tinted goggles before she disappeared in a flash of blue. Her legs moved in a blur of orange, leaping from side to side, her guns dealing out stinging blows to his back.

Until he had caught her, ripping the metal contraption from her chest.

He had watched in satisfaction as she flashed in and out of time, finally putting her annoyance to an end. He stood there, waiting, still holding onto the sizzling, flashing pieces he had tore from Tracer’s mechanical heart. The ape watched him through his ridiculously small glasses.

But he had gotten too cocky. Much too cocky. He hadn’t expected the ape to do- whatever he did. The ape- Winston, he was called- had met his gauntlet head-on, roaring so loud that the sound resounded back and forth through his head. Akande was surprised by the strength of which the ape hit with. His gauntlet had shattered, metal fingers breaking and twisting.

It should have been a fair fight after that. He had heard the sounds of the bones in Winston’s furry fist break as well, yet he had fought like it hadn’t even hurt.

Akande had misjudged him. Misjudged him and the rage he had purposely coaxed from him, taunting from his higher ledge as they both watched Tracer blink out of existence. He had made a mistake, and had been met with a pair of cuffs and detainment for several years, up until now.

He had waited, months- years. His patience was rewarded at last, again within the ranks of Talon. After his escape, he had easily finished the job Widowmaker and Reaper failed to do: retrieve his gauntlet. He was so very thankful to find it in one piece and functional. Seemingly, the scientists couldn't help themselves but to put it back perfectly together just for the purpose of display.

But now, he watches the cyborg with a cold, hardened stare. He can see his despair and the building madness of a caged animal within Genji’s gaze.

The door behind him hissed then slid open without a sound. It was like the sound shut off a light inside of his head. The cyborg’s gaze broke contact with him, becoming glassy and unfocused, sinking into whatever hell Sombra had created for him. Genji was gone again, his consciousness collapsing under the weight of his experiences of the past -however many days or even weeks this had gone on.

It definitely was not the first, seeing how Sombra was confident enough to leave him alone in a room full of computers which could access the outside world.

Akande turned, meeting the purple stare of the hacker in question. The door slid shut behind her, a muffled thud breaking the silence between them. Her calculating eyes searched his, looking for anything that could betray his thoughts on the matter. She broke the continued silence first.

“Well, what do you think?” Sombra looks away, sweeping her bangs to the side before her gaze met his again. “ _Impresionante_ , no?

“Taking control of his body and using him as a vessel?” He replies evenly. “No, I do not.”

She scoffs in return, rolling her eyes with a tilt of her head. “It isn’t much difference with what you did with the spider lady,” Sombra counters, picking at the edge of her gloved nails. “In fact, I can almost say they are one in the same; until I make him kill someone he cares for, anyway.”

Akande watches her, careful to keep his expression flat and steady. “The same? No. I at least gave her the option to forget. You? You are holding a time bomb. If he ever gets free we will have no control of what would happen.” He remembers the look in the cyborg’s eyes. He was still very much there, under the madness and drugs- or whatever the hacker had done to him. “Amélie is gone for sure. Genji is not. You keep him caged there. Why not end it? At least I feel enough mercy for that.”

Sombra laughs at that, faking doubling over and clutching her stomach. “Amélie? No, she is far from gone. You tell yourself that to put yourself to sleep at night. We both know that she remembers her husband and visits the place of his death. And bringing her to the castle? Not a wise move if you wish to keep her from remembering.” She shakes her head at that. “No, Mister Ogundimu. We are one in the same; monsters.”

She leaves him with the thought, strutting over to Genji and sweeping his mask off the table. “Hello, Grumpy. How have you been today?”

Genji doesn’t answer, but he sees the cyborg’s jaw clench tighter on his otherwise impassive face. He turns to face her slowly, his gaze meeting Akande’s as a last desperate prayer.

_Help._

“Not very talkative, are you today?” Sombra snorts. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot.” Her hand traces his jaw and his head stiffly jerks away. “You haven’t earned the right to talk again.”

Genji’s eyes were still locked with his. Watching. Waiting.

 _No,_ he thinks. _It is good to have someone like the cyborg on his side rather than against, but there is a tinge of pity that it was not by choice._

Sombra cups his jaw again, tilting his head down and her as she replaces his mask, returning those accusing eyes back to a blank solid line.

Genji pulls away, making a single forced step backward as his arm involuntarily raises half an inch, the fingers curling towards the center of his metal palm. The metal joints shook as they were opposing a force much greater then it could exert. Sombra raised an eyebrow at the cyborg’s show of resilience, before it had finally collapsed, his arms loosening and lowering back to the side.

Sombra simply snorted and turned, heading back toward the door, but he kept his eyes on Genji. The cyborg’s head was lowered, gazing into the ground. His neck tilted a fraction of an inch, his blinding purple visor staring hate that seemed to emit from his entire body.

Who knew a blank faceplate could convey so much emotion?

 _Are you angry?_ Akande steps forward, admiring the cyborg’s unrelenting will. He knows that he will not be easily broken as Amélie. _Good. I liked your temper._

He turns and follows Sombra out the door, just as people started to file into the meeting room. He could feel the cyborg’s gaze burning holes into his back, yet he walks away and doesn’t return it.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [check out sarcasticsides' amazing art work/au stuff :)](http://sarcasticasides.tumblr.com/post/165851580216/business-is-business)


	2. fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hasn’t lost count, has he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. Should have left this as a stand-alone one-shot.

-

The world is dark and comforting. He breathes, counting the quiet beats of his heart. _Fifty-four, fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven- He breathes._ The colours of the room are too sharp- too blinding. It hurts his mind to focus for too long, and he’s content to just slip back into the dark again. The colours blur together, getting softer and rounding at the edges until everything is just a dark purple haze.

Genji is floating somewhere, far above his body. He’s breathless, out of control, yet here he feels no need to be in control. A calm settles over him, soothing the strange ache in his mind. He watches everything happen helplessly, like a movie. Powerless to do anything, but content to just watch; wanting and waiting to see what would happen next. The dark wraps around him in a smothering blanket, keeping him warm as he watches the play by play. Snippets of movement and conversations reach his senses, slowly drawing him back.

The world is blindingly colourful. The stabbing blue-lined holograms fill his vision and bathe everything in its light, yet everything he sees is tinted purple.

He hears a name- _his name_. Shimada. And another. Lacroix. What were they talking about? Did they need him again?

The sounds are too quiet and they fall on deaf ears. He’s too far away, straining to listen to conversations that are kilometers below him. There! The wind picks up and he hears words that float up to him. A country. Gibraltar. Something about watching it? Another name.

_McCree._

He remembers it... It sounded familiar, bringing back memories that made him shiver. The dusty smell of cigars that drag against his lungs. The warmth of lips on his neck. The brush of humming metal down his synthetic back.

More words reach his ears but he’s lost interest already, lost in the strange scenes playing before him. _What was this?_

He blinks, whatever he was thinking about fading from his mind. It’s too loud all of a sudden, voices countering each other, trying to outmatch each other’s decibels. There are people, he now realizes. They point at the blue structure that looks like it’s built into a mountainside. A sudden gunshot makes him flinch. He shuts it out, closing his eyes and willing the purple haze to come take him.

 _How long has it been?_ The question burns in his mind. _Has he even been keeping count?_ Yes, yes, he has. _How long?_ It asks, insistent. _He hasn’t lost count, has he?_ No, no, of course not. He keeps count. He can keep count. He’s good at keeping count.

_Then how long has it been?_

Four months, one week, three days. Five... five hours.

His body moves, turning and heading at a steady pace. He feels it, the quiet burn that pushes against joints and winces. Why did it hurt? It felt like an exoskeleton that pushed to move, encasing his limbs within it. He grits his teeth, forcing himself to loosen his limbs and move with the insistent push. The pressure lessens, but the pain doesn’t go too far.

Genji feels awake, not continuing to float, but not in control. Somewhere in between. The purple haze retreats almost completely, letting his surroundings slip through his foggy mind. He registers the indifferent gray walls moving past him. He stops at another gray surface. A siren rings next to him and he flinches away from the intruding sound. The wall in front of him opens up- not a wall at all. He walks through the now open door and into a gaping hull of a plane. He sits, his fingers fumbling with the straps.

It’s quiet again. The consistent humming of the engine is almost comforting. His eyes start to droop, yet he feels another sound- a vibration in the metal base of the plane. His eyes uneasily slip open, locking onto a solitary figure approaching the open port of the plane.

It’s a blue lady. She is slim and walks with an unnatural grace that does not belong to a soldier- a dancer maybe. She gives him a curious side-glance and sits across him. She does not smile at him nor does she ask him questions. She just simply holsters her elongated gun and closes her golden eyes. She sleeps.

It’s silent again.

The hanger closes. The engine of the plane picks up. Takeoff. He’s lifted off the ground, feeling breathless and lightweight. A sound in his head pops, changing the tone of the steady thrumming.

But he relaxes, the tilt of the plane evening out. His head droops, eyes slipping shut. The purple darkness is waiting for him when he leaves again, greeting him in its warm embrace. The hum of the engine fades to the background and he starts to forget about it.

He thinks back to the lady- the... purple? No, she was a blue lady. _What about her again?_

Huh. He’s not so sure. The purple haze makes him feel sleepy, yet he can not sleep. What was he thinking about again?

 _How long has it been?_ _He hasn’t lost count, has he?_ No, he hasn’t. He’s good at keeping count.

Four months, one week, three days, six hours.

Yes, he’s almost there. _There?_ Like a countdown. A reverse countdown with no end, he thinks, giddy. He sits, feeling himself drift away again. He breaths, feeling his breath steady and even. It’s quiet; it’s not blinding nor is it loud. He relaxes, thinking about everything and nothing at once.

_Four months, one week, three days, six hours, thirty minutes._

_Four months, one week, three days, seven hours._

Something is going to happen soon, he can almost feel it; but he doesn’t know what. There's a name. It has to do with it, he thinks. But as soon as it comes to mind, it's gone.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short setup for next chapter. I mean if you read sarcasticasides’ comics you know what’s happening
> 
> Well anyway, no matter how good Sombra is, she probably can’t just hack him overnight, right? Stuff like that takes at least days to do. What I’m thinking is that Sombra took control little by little and he probably noticed something wrong too late and she somehow contoled him enough just to tote him over to her base then finished the job. Life for him also is not too great. How would you even stay sane in situations like that anyway?
> 
> Also: McGenji?


	3. smokescreen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smell of smoke curled around him, still fresh.

-

The dark, looming structure was built right into the mountainside, exactly as the hologram had shown. Yet, Genji isn’t quite sure if that is where the quiet recollections keep popping in his mind, leading his footsteps across a rocky outcrop that most people would never have dared to cross. A thin line carved into his mind, barely scratching the surface; invisible to the eye but it was there- insistent. He doesn’t think about it, following the vague direction towards something that just pulled him along on an invisible string.

 _He doesn’t think about much, does he?_ No, not really.

The purple haze had retreated to the back of his mind, allowing him just enough clarity of mind to keep his footing, yet keeping a quiet insistent urge- still here, still here, still, here. He’d almost welcome it, falling behind its dark covers- but that would almost immediately mean falling to his death, off the steep ledge he was clinging onto.

The wind whipped at his back, lashing his ribbon into the air. He kept climbing.

It leads to a cliff, high above any point in the base. A single patch of grass was thinner, almost barren, and he sees a sort of mat over it like someone had visited this place often and had brought it to sit on. Not anymore, though. A spiderweb trailed against the side of it, its delicate strands clinging desperately to the unnatural plastic-like material. Dust layered over it as well, despite the wind. He approaches the mat and sits, feeling like he was intruding on a private area, yet confounded by the familiarity of the motions.

From here, he could see the entrance of the structure, parallel to another building which the purple lady had set up in, but not much else. There were ledges that faced out to the ocean, directly underneath him, he knew. The place she set up had a clear view of them, he realized.

They were... rooms? Genji frowned, trying to catch onto the thought. He doesn’t remember seeing them on the hologram. He remembers them from something else. Someone lived in there. But...

His thoughts were scattered into the wind as he carefully leaned forward onto his hands and knees, peeking under the cliff to confirm his suspicions. There were balconies there, doors leading out into a small platform guarded by a thin metal railing. The one closest to him had spatters of blacked ash pressed into the railing. Cigarette butts and the remains of cigars were spilled messily all over the platform.

The smell of smoke curled around him, still fresh.

He stops, freezing in place as he hears a sound directly underneath him. A quiet shift, a scrape of a chair. A leather gloved hand comes into view, extinguishing yet another flame into the railing before the cigarette joins its brothers scattered on the floor. His breathing stops, afraid of alerting the person to his intruding presence as if a little sound could send the entire base into lockdown.

It’s a few more seconds until he registers the loud clap of a door closing, the sound of the other person- _so close_ , now gone.

He backs away from the edge, feeling the dark tide pushing and threatening to spill over his vision. He sits back on the surprisingly cushioned mat, silent, feeling his heart beat a little too fast, and breaths, pulling himself from the strange haze settling over his field of view. He is here for a reason... right?

_What reason?_

Right on cue, his comm crackles to life. He winces; it’s too loud, much too loud compared to the calm silence from before. Static runs a blurry line through his thoughts, making him focus on the single sound. The frayed branches of his mind are sharped, twisted into a single cord, and for once, a clear question formulates in his fuzzy mind: _What in the world?_

“Are you done?” The static dies down enough for him to hear her voice. It’s foreign the way she rounds the vowels of the words, stretching out the sound softly.

He stares out into the ocean, playing the sound over and over in his head, marveling at the way his thoughts come out clearly. The white noise keeps him from sinking, a lifeline in the opaque purple haze. He only answers when he remembers- _he remembered_ \- that she had asked him a question. His answer is curt, dismissive in the same way hers had been.

The blue lady stares up at him through the scope of her sniper, the lens flare reflecting the dying light of the sky behind him as the sun hid behind the rocky outcrop. He watches her delicate fingers move over the side of her head and the static immediately cuts off, plunging him back into the dark.

His thoughts are immediately jumbled as the piercing sound retracts, leaving him swaying from the sudden throbbing in his head. He backs away from the edge, suddenly afraid of falling from such a height. He runs a hand over his mask, right where his forehead should be, gritting his teeth and trying to quell the shaking in his hands.

Genji shivers, feeling the spike of pain as he body tries to force him to move, yet his stays put, his fingers tearing out the grass. The world starts to lose its vivid colour, blurring before his eyes. The purple haze is back, slipping into his mind like a drug and instantly calming him.

It hurts, he thinks. It almost feels if there is someone there that hears him. He feels their presence like a stone in his mind. A hand brushed over his head, fingers tapped against his spine, in time with the humming of his mechanical body.

_You have to move._

He’s not surprised by the answer. He complies, slowly heading back the way he had come, alert for any signs of a tripwire alarm or any people. Getting down is easier than going up, he muses. He's panicky as he quickly leaves his cover to sprint across the barren ground between the warehouse and the main base. The blue lady is there when he gets back, waiting patiently for him. She does not ask where he had gone nor did she ask what took him so long, unlike everyone else. They slip into an abandoned supply room which hasn’t seemed to be used since the base had been reoccupied- or, his mind supplies hasn’t been used since Winston made the Recall.

 _The Recall?_ The voice asks, the voice he had just come to think as an afterthought, always repeating everything he said.

Yes, the Recall. Winston had... He blinks sluggishly, feeling something tighten at the base of his skull. Intruding fingers pushed into his mind, slipping past his thoughts like a knife and carving a hole in his already fragmented mind. He winces at the intrusion, running his hands against the metal that covered his skull. It leaves as fast as it had come, taking something with it.

Whatever he had been thinking had been lost, feeling that it was continuing to get harder and harder to keep his thoughts in order. But he frowns, looking around the area, forgetting about it already. It looks familiar in a way.

No, he had heard wrong back at... wherever that room he had been in previously. They weren’t here to watch something in Gibraltar; they were at Watchpoint: Gibraltar. The pieces started to come together in his mind. They were here for something else.

He sits, drawing his knees close to his chest and resting his aching head against them. He knows that the blue lady is watching him, yet he could care less, closing his eyes and feeling a sense of relief at the purple-hued darkness shifting comfortably around him, giving him space for his mind to wander. He feels the tendrils of it curl around him, cradling him in the safe dark embrace.

 _You should rest,_ it tells him. He never thought of it before, but the voice is soft and soothing. It’s slightly feminine with an accent he’s sure he has heard somewhere before. _Just go to sleep and let me handle it._

Yes, he should, he agrees, slipping farther and farther from everything.

 _How long has it been?_ The same questions repeating again and again. _Long enough?_

Four months, one week, four days, half an hour. Time swept by so fast since they had landed nearby six hours ago. Six hours, thirty minutes and counting. It had taken time traveling here, emerging from his unconscious slumber and back again as he followed the slim blue lady.

_Just keep counting._

Yes, he thinks, slipping farther and farther from everything. Images are pulled from his mind, locations, places from the base he had passed. His comm crackles to life, the same soothing voice from before speaking to someone, but it had taken a different tone, much more formal, but he’s too far gone to make out what it says.

_"Yes, the target's confirmed in that room..."_

Last words catch his attention but they don't make much sense to him. He drifts in and out, all the while they sit in comfortable silence, waiting for nightfall.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The concept of Genji’s body is something that I’ve considered a bit before writing these chapters, but what I’ve headcannoned was that Genji could possibly have had something implanted in his brain to control his body because it was on such a large scale, unlike McCree’s arm. Sombra would probably be able to “hack” him through that and control the signals being sent from his head to his body. Also, from what it looks like, he seems to have a mechanical spine or exoskeleton which would definitely need some sort of nervous system connected to the brain.


	4. indifferent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A target was only a target after all.

-

The wind is quiet tonight, a low breeze despite their proximity to the ocean and mountains. Only a whisper of it can be heard through the small opening of the door. It will be a clean shot then. _There are small blessings in life,_ she supposes.

The cyborg next to her hasn’t spoken, but then again there isn’t much to be said. She watches the way he curls up on himself, his arms coming to hold his knees against his chest. His purple lights pulse gently in the dark, in time with his quiet breaths that had broken the silence of the night.

The action is just so- _human_.

She’d seen him hesitate at the clifftop, straining to remember something that he had lost, like so many times she had looked her self in the mirror; or wondered at the grave of a man who bore her name. She was only ever greeted by silence and the quiet ache of something missing in her head.

But she watches him indifferently, with a gaze that is neither caring nor passive. In the end, they’d both would come down to their false natures: weapons controlled by Talon. She just hopes he will not end up too much like her. What used will Talon find from two supposedly unique weapons that would serve the same purpose?

His lights blink and grow brighter, basking the room in his sickly purple light. He’s done waiting. Her comm blinks and she presses on it. Sombra informs her that they can move. Their target is moving back to the highest balcony on the cliff face.

She pulls herself up and heads for the door, the quiet whirring if machinery behind her signalling he had done the same. Twilight had settled over the horizon, the sky black and spotted with stars. Widowmaker takes a quiet breath, refreshing from the stale air in the storage room. She spies a small light in the distance, a lonely orange glow.

“That’s him,” Sombra confirms over the comms. “I’m prepping the transport. Don’t take too long.”

She brings the sniper up to rest against her shoulder, angling it towards the spect of light in the distance. Her breathing slows as she adjusts the scope of her lens, focusing on the target. There’s a lazy wind tonight; it brushes against her spine and sweeps her hair across her back. There’s a moment of silence before her finger twitches towards the trigger, slowly and smoothly.

_“I hope you miss.”_

Her concentration snaps as she turns to look at the cyborg. Shimada was crouching next to her, his gaze glued on the target. His shurikens were in hand, though she doubted they would be of much use at this distance. She watched his chest rise and fall with his breathing until she deemed him not threat and turned back to the focus of her scope.

The target hadn’t moved a single inch, yet she took the precautions to refocus and scope in. Shimada fidgeted next to her, every shuffle and quiet whir of machinery as he moved distracting her. Her eyes flicked to the side in annoyance. This surely wasn’t his first ever target, nor would it be his first kill. There should be no reason to be nervous.

Perhaps he recognized the target? The thought took longer to form in her head than it should have. She took note of his stiffened and tense body, the nervous fidget of the shuriken in his hands, and came to a conclusion: he was indeed nervous because this was his first target under Talon.

The thought of her first target came into his head, Gérard Lacroix, the mystery man that bore the same name as her. She doesn’t remember the details of the kill, but knows she had done it. There was a spark of familiarity whenever the name was brought up, but she learned to suppress them.

 _He will learn_ , she thought, her eyes narrowing to focus on the pinprick of light in the distance. A target was only a target after all. A name and a face with no weight attached; she was indifferent to them all.

The sniper felt warm in her hands, in contrast to her cold skin. The curves and edges of it were all familiar to her. She felt the edges of her lips curl upward into a small smile as her finger rested on the trigger. There was a strange stir in her chest, a flutter in her heart. _She felt alive._

She counted the slowed beats of her heart: one, two, three. Her finger squeezed around the trigger.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who decided to disappear for half a year then post 700 words of bs filler after 6 months of silence. This has been sitting on my computer for a while and guilt is feeding off of my depression so im pretty miserable in general. I’ve made a shit ton of bad mistakes in my life and I never seem to learn huh :/
> 
> Stress, life and people are killing me. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to anyone who is still reading this fic despite with this mess. Im sorry. I’m a terrible person. Next next chapter will probably be McCree.


	5. flare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s almost nostalgic...

-

He only felt a slight sensation of it first, a tug on his arm pulling him back to the light of consciousness. The black void around him shifted to a purple hue as he was pulled along. The weight around him felt lighter as the fog around him thinned as if he had surfaced out of a body of water.

Genji opened his eyes, wincing immediately at the high-pitched whine that hit his ears. His head ached as he looked around, noting the strange feeling in his mind- or lack of. He could feel the purple fog still hanging at the back of his mind, but pushed back by the strange ringing coming from his helmet.

There was a sound that cut through all his thoughts, the rough sparks of static making him grit his teeth.

“That’s him,” the voice spoke, but it took him a second too long to realize it wasn’t in his head. “I’m prepping the transport-”

His fingers came up quickly, brushing against the side of his head until he reached a smooth span of metal that tapered to a point above his ear. His fingers tapped on the piece just below it, twice, and her voice cut off mid-sentence. The comm-link built into his helmet switched to another channel, the high-pitched shrieking playing uninterrupted.

Genji let out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and relaxing slightly. His mind felt clearer and the static had begun to fade into white noise. The purple tide that loomed over his vision had started to recede, leaving him somewhat disoriented.

Where was he?

He slowly opened his eyes and surveyed the surroundings without moving his head, remembering that the blue lady was still somewhere nearby. His eyes locked onto a soft glow in the distance, standing out from the rest of the otherwise pitch-black of the building. A cigar, he would guess, from the same balcony he had been over earlier, with all the cigars and cigarettes spilled over the floor. His enhanced vision could barely make out the shape of a person leaning over the railing.

The building was dark, a black shape carved from the purples and blues of the twilight sky. The moon reflected off the worn surfaces of metal and glass, defining the architecture of the building.

It’s almost nostalgic.

_The rain beat against his helmet, the usually calming pitter-patter of water running down his body now irritating him more than ever. His gaze was fixed on the darkness of the window, hoping his glare alone was able to burn through the cold metal of the building._

_He can’t stay here, not anymore._

_The mud squelched beneath his usual silent feet as he turned and left, not looking back once more. It was an old feeling, hate and anger burning in his chest. How far must had he climbed just to be knocked over by a few meaningless words?_

Genji blinked in surprise, coming back to his surroundings. It was still dark, the quiet chirps of grasshoppers keeping the silence of the night at bay. His fingers were clasped around a single shuriken, slowly fidgeting with it as he tried to hide the shaking in his hands.

 _Hush_ , the voice soothes from the back of his mind, nothing more than a mere whisper. It does nothing to quell his overactive thoughts, not like usual. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath as he tries to push the strange visions from his mind. The purple fog does nothing to help him. His heartbeat steadies after a few seconds, a relaxing calm washing over him. He welcomes it with relief.

There’s still a strange afterthought still lingering in his mind, something uncovered that bothered him as he crouched behind the boxes, his gaze fixed on the building ahead. Yet his thoughts were sluggish, like trying to remember a muddled dream.

The blue lady notices him, his restlessness. But he pushes the thought to the side, his gaze intently focused on the flare in the distance. He could almost smell the smoke. Through the confusion clouding his mind, he feels a light shining through. It’s cloudy, a half-buried thought.

He wants a cigarette, to feel the warmth of the smoke drift through his lungs.

There’s an ache in his heart, a quiet rolling sadness that settles in his chest. He remembers the husky scent of the thick cigars which didn’t burn in his remaining lung, unlike the expensive cigarettes that tasted like death.

_“You wanna light?” There was a lighter held in front of his face. He blinked and turned away._

_“I told you, cowman, I can’t smoke.”_

_“Aw, Angie doesn’t have to know.”_

He’s shivering now, feeling like his whole body trembled as he slowly picked apart the fluttering memories in his head. He couldn’t hold onto them for long before they slipped through his grasp.

A sudden panic settled in his mind as something surfaced from the muddled sea of memories.

_“What happened to us, Jesse?” Quiet, hurt- betrayed._

_“It’s been years. You know that you and I had both changed. I... I’m sorry. I can’t-“ A pause before a wall of confidence hardened in his eyes- no regret. “I’m sorry. I can’t stay here.” The other man pushed past him as he headed out the door._

_The words formed in his mouth but they dragged in his throat, coming too late until he was left alone in the room. All pain he had gone through his life, all lost for a single thing._

_Was it worth it?_

His head snapped towards the sniper; her golden eyes were focused through the lens of her gun. Fear sparked in his mind, lighting something buried in the depths of his clouded memories. There was a stirring pain in his mind, his silenced voice: a raw emotional force.

_Jesse._

He slowly rose to his full height next to the sniper, staring down at her. She didn’t seem to notice, gazing intently through the scope of her sniper.

“What are you doing?” The voice hissed, losing its soft tone. Her voice was no longer in his head, but rather, switched to the channel his comm-link had connected to. Everything became so clear he would have laughed.

I know you, he thinks back, a malicious glee bursting from his chest. The purple fog was losing its grip on his mind, a lingering presence barely keeping his giddy thoughts from overwhelming his head. There was no reply as he turned back to the blue lady. A small smile had curled on her elegant face, a strange light in her eyes, like a hunter gazing down on its prey.

Genji was moving before he even had realized it.

His vision had gone white, a sudden surge of pain shooting up his body. The force of the shot left him reeling, a ringing in his ears that pierced through the false purple calm in his mind. Without it, the pain felt too real, too clear. It was a jagged and twisted blade burrowed into his chest, sharpened by the sudden suppressed memories breaking past its barriers.

His breath caught in his throat, the feeling of weightlessness until he had hit the ground below them. His back and neck ached, pains softened by the synthetic fibres of his body. There was blood streaming from his mouth and nose, coughed up from the pain pooling in his chest.

Through the haze of it all, his eyes traced down to his chest. Blood flowed from a split in his armour, near the centre of his chest, a few inches from his heart. His fingers came and hesitantly cupped over the wound, blood flowing easily around the metal digits. A gasp of pain left his lips as his finger scraped over the puncture of mixed synthetic, real skin and shattered bits of metal.

_There was an arm wrapped around his neck, choking the breath from his lungs. He thrashed, fingers digging into the metal gauntlet jammed under his chin. The other arm of his attacker dug into his side, pushing into the bloody wound that had been ripped open by the shotgun bullets._

_“Quit struggling,” the man behind him hissed into his ear. “I don’t want to have to kill you.”_

_“I wish-“ Genji gasped, panting for air- “I wish I could say the same, Reyes.”_

“You fool,” her voice spat in his ears, an angry edge to the tone; it was her speaking, but not in his head, he reminded himself. Static crackled in his helmet, his still-sensitive ears making him wince. His blood covered fingers gripped the side of his head, clawing at the comm built into his helmet.

The blue lady stared down at him from her perch above the warehouse, a mixture of confusion and anger on her mostly passive face.

“We have to go. Transports incoming.” There was a sudden wind spiralling from the night sky. His ribbon snapped in the wind behind him, raising off the ground, yet he stayed motionless, every breath sending a spike of pain down his body. “Widow, get outta there!”

He couldn’t stand even if he wanted to. His fingers gripped weakly at the dirt, pushing himself up before he fell back to the ground, jostling the gaping wound in his chest.

Maybe they will leave him.

A hand gripped around his arm, half yanking and half dragging him onto the open belly of the transport ship. Through the haze of pain, his eyes locked onto the gloved hand wrapped around his bicep, curved metal knuckles resting under the clawed fingers of the glove.

A gasp escaped his lips as the hand threw him forward, his body slamming against the foot of the row of seats as the door to the transport immediately closed. It was mere seconds before the engines rumbled and the ship was airborne again, sending him sliding across the metal floor, a trail of red following his path.

A foot planted itself on his shoulder and kept him from moving as the plane flew through another bought of turbulence, its metal hull echoing with the sound of the wind. His gaze followed its way up the boot all the way to its owner.

Reapers impassive mask met his own, and he couldn’t help the pang of fear settling into his gut.

“You brats always seem to get in trouble, huh?”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writers block is finally gone :') it feels so good. Well imma be playing that Blackwatch event... whenever it comes out today
> 
> I hope this makes up for the super short chapter 4. For those who wanted McGenji, please dont hate how i wrote him. Stuff will be explained more next chapter: McCree 4/20/2018


	6. McCree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no reason to have missed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obligatory smoking scene in honour of 4/20

-

The cigar had started to burn close to his hand, the usually comforting smell of smoke bringing back bitter memories. Jesse sighed and rubbed it out onto the railing of the balcony before flicking it off to the ground below.

He fumbled slightly with a pack of cigarettes, grunting with annoyance as it turned up empty. _Third one today, huh?_ He delicately pulled another pack out from his pocket, mentally making a note to buy some more, whenever he had the chance.

“This one’s for you.” _Weren’t they all?_

He pocketed the lighter and took a slow drag from the cigarette, hating the smell of it. It tasted like death dragging at his lungs. A cough escaped his lips, followed by a curse and an exhale of smoke.

He’s miserable, could barely sleep or talk to anybody since Genji had just up and disappeared one day.

“Is this what you wanted? Are you happy now?” His voice died in his throat, the anger draining to a bitter hollowness. For all he knew, Genji could be dead or dying somewhere alone, nothing but their last conversation to remember. “Where are you? I’m sorry. Why don’t you come back?”

Something wet dripped down the side of his face and he repetitively blinked, trying to keep the tears from coming. The last time he ever cried was when he woke on a hospital bed to find that he had lost his arm just below the elbow. He wiped it away with the back of his prosthetic hand, taking another breath from the cigarette.

_You’re Blackwatch now, and Blackwatch_ _don’t cry,_ Reyes’ voice sternly reminded him; another ghost from the past.

Did you cry when you woke in another body? Built from metal and wires? He wondered at the questions he would probably never get the answers to.

The cigarette was almost burnt out as exhaustion dragged at his body. It had taken months, almost a year before he had given up trying to find him. He remembered from the Blackwatch days, if Genji didn’t want to be found, you couldn’t find him.

He was so lost without him.

He shifted on the chair again, his foot hitting the edge of a ceramic plate. Jesse glanced at that in surprise, then remembering with a laugh. He would probably also be dead if it wasn’t for Zenyatta and not-so-little Fareeha.

The omnic, who told him again and again that he didn’t blame him for his student’s disappearance, made it a task to bring him food everyday, saying that it was Genji who had taught him how to cook. Fareeha, on the other hand, always stuck with him, coming with him on travels when he had been searching for the cyborg. Even after he had given up, Fareeha had not, telling him that Genji wouldn’t just run from a situation like this; he would come back.

He was bitter, saying what would she know: wasn’t she already comfortably in bed with Angela? He’d never got the change to apologize before she had been whisked away to a mission in Numbani.

They all had given up talking him out of his grief, instead, refusing to let him into missions, saying they feared he would recklessly get himself killed.

He still blamed himself through, unlike anyone else. He was too blunt, uncaring. But the petty part of him reasoned that there was no reason to be upset. Genji did after all, change, as he did. They used to ‘click’ back in Blackwatch. The two of them were nearly polar opposites but complementing partners in many ways. While Genji was a silent, raging storm, he was the thunder and lightning before it.

People had always seen the cyborg as the threat, the one to look of for, until they realized too late they forgot about him. His own attitude, everything about him made no one take him seriously, yet he was alright with that. Genji was always the menacing shadow by his side, yet their smarter enemies would see through the obvious ploy. Jesse called the shots, the calculating, deadly one, while Genji was the guard dog that only attacked when he signalled, the “just in case this doesn’t go well”.

But Genji had changed. Still, on the battlefield, he fought with a deadly edge, yet it had mellowed and toned down. Whenever they argued or fought each other in Blackwatch, one of them would usually be sent down to Angela for repairs or with broken ribs. Now, he would snap something at the cyborg, anything to see the old fire in his eyes, but Genji would just stand there and take his fire and reply in an infuriating calm.

_Where did all this control come from?_

He couldn’t take it anymore. The hurt and loneliness. His Genji was gone.

He had been happy for his friend after knowing he had found peace with himself and his brother. Jesse had changed as well, but not as drastically as Genji. His anger and calm had gone an opposite direction than of Genji’s. Time alone on the run had wore away his trust and forgiveness.

He had changed, but not enough as Genji.

Jesse flicked the burning cigarette off the balcony, staring into the ocean past the buildings and over the lip of the cliff. How easy would it to just end it all? But Genji would surely laugh at him in the afterlife, before Angela brought him back.

The slight flash of green in the distance, on top of an opposing warehouse was all he had as a warning before the unmistakable sound of a gun firing off- a sniper to be specific.

He dove to the ground, covering his head with his arms as he waited for a second shot that never came. He could almost hear Reyes scolding him. How stupid could he be to light a small fire while the rest of the base was lights-out? And while most of the others had been gone on missions, leaving a handful of agents left on the base all together.

He cursed quietly before quickly shuffling forward on his elbows and knees, and rolling back into the room- Genji’s room anyway. He grabbed his gun and hat, and triggered the silent alarm hidden inside one of the desk drawers before taking the quickest route to the warehouse facing the balcony.

There was no one there when he arrived- that was expected. He climbed the steps up to the roof of the warehouse, checking for any signs of who had attacked him, and more importantly, why they missed.

His eyes scanned the surroundings, noting how easy it could have been to take him out. No other agents were either living on this side of the building, or awake. It was a straight shot with nothing to possibly block it, and plenty of boxes to take cover. Behind him was the open ocean, easy escape path and landing.

There was no reason to have missed.

Yet, his paranoia tugged at his senses. The flash of green he saw before the sound burned into his mind. Muzzle flashes were not green, nor were they that bright. He scanned the area around the warehouse again, something on the ground catching his eye.

Throwing caution to the wind, he leapt off the edge of the warehouse and landed on shaky knees. They ached from jumping off the the single-story building, yet they were forgotten as Jesse rushed to the object half-hidden in a patch of grass. The metal of it reflected off the moon’s light, barely able to be seen.

His heart nearly stopped at the sight. It was a three-pronged pointed star, a weapon that he had seen many, many times.

He slowly crouched down and extended a shaking hand towards it, afraid that it would simply disappear, a trick of his mind made by many sleepless nights and desperation. He wanted to feel it with his real hand, to know it was real. His fingers closed around the cold metal and brought it up to his face. The lights on it flicked a pale purple, in contrast to the usual green of the cyborg.

Jesse shifted backwards, gazing at the ground around him. A strange metallic scent hung in the air, one that he didn’t recognize until now. There was a dark stain already seeping into the soil, and he didn’t have to see the colour to know that it was blood.

His metal fingers dragged through the dirt and they came back covered in a thin film of blood and something else- still fresh. The panic and horror of this hadn’t set in; he only felt numb and a little surprised. His other hand had clenched around the shuriken, and he could feel the blood start to run down his arm.

“He’s alive.”

The words felt strange on his tongue. But what had happened to him? Where was he? Where did he go?

“Oi, Jesse!” He turned to see Lena and Angela running towards him, worry clear on their faces. His face was blank as he turned to face them.

“What happened? Are you okay?” There were bags under Angela’s eyes, but the look in them reminded him so much of Ana. “Did you pull the alarm?” There was a pause before she saw his hand. “Jesse! Your arm.”

He frowned at her before he looked down at his hand clenched around the metal star. Blood had oozed from where cuts had formed, holding the sharp edges too tight. He didn’t feel any pain. Her slender fingers pulled his hand out of the tight fist and quickly pulled the shuriken out of his grasp. Angela ripped the edge of her white lab coat off and started bandaging his hand.

“What’s this?” Lena picked the metal star off the ground and inspected it. “This- this looks like-“ Her eyes widened and looked at the ground beneath them.

“He’s alive,” Jesse croaked out again. He felt nothing saying those words, as if he had thrown them at his brain yet they bounced off a barrier in front of it. “He’s alive,” he said with more conviction.

Lena’s eyes had gone wide with shock behind her goggles but she said nothing, looking back down at the bloodied shuriken in her hand.

Angela paused her work and met his gaze. “What?”

“He’s alive,” he repeated. A quiet scoff and amusement left his mouth. “Genji,” he laughed, feeling the edge of his mouth curl into a smile. “He’s alive.”

Lena and Angela both met his gaze with bewilderment as if they didn’t find this the slightest amusing. He almost chuckled, at the thought. After all this worrying and pain, it didn’t matter. A part of him asked why this was funny at all, but he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. He covered his mouth with his hand, feeling the tears well up in his eyes. A broken sob slipped out between his laugh and his body shook with a strange, old feeling of pain.

Angela pulled him closer, hugging his head to her chest and slowly petting his hair. He felt Lena wrap her arms around his back, whispering, “It’s okay.”

He’s alive.

_Genji’s alive._

He’s going to find him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blackwatch mcgenji is probably one of my favourite things, like imagine an angsty relationship where they fought and cuddled a lot and tried to confront their feels and their past with each other but ended up just pulling pranks on dad reyes
> 
> this and last chapter was inspired by a post on tastyboygenji's tumblr (18+ warning and a bunch of other things proceed with cautionn)

**Author's Note:**

> __  
>  [Tumblr](https://rndomdragon.tumblr.com)   
> 


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